he massive Continental Gate shimmered like a frozen whirlpool of reality. Runes spun, clicking and folding through ancient patterns, as if the very laws of physics had decided to take a break and let magic run the show.
Lucien stood before it, golden hair tied back in a loose knot, a travel bag slung over one shoulder like a bored tourist about to cause an international incident.
Behind him, the towering Arkanveil estate shrank, becoming nothing more than a speck on the endless plains.
Permission to leave for one month—granted.
Lucien smirked.
"Time to touch a little dirt beyond my own backyard."
---
[TRANSPORTATION PORTALS – "GATEWAYS OF BOUND TRAVEL"]
Overview:
Created jointly by mage families and dwarven engineers who thought messing with space-time was a fun idea.
Used for military deployment, trade, and sometimes really awkward diplomatic brunches.
Restricted. Only nobles, royals, ranked guilds, and 'people with terrifying lawyers' could use them.
Types of Portals:
1. Continental Gates (CG-Class):
Permanent mega-structures.
Powered by continent-core mana crystals the size of a mansion.
Guarded 24/7 by knight-mage corps who don't know the meaning of "day off."
2. Tactical Waygates (TW-Class):
Portable, mid-range gates.
Carried around by golems with better work ethics than most humans.
3. Personal Jump Runes (PJR-Class):
Single-use, disgustingly expensive.
Banned in tournaments unless you wanted your opponent to file a "He teleported into my spleen" complaint.
Rules & Risks:
Unauthorized portal use = international criminal charges + possible public shaming via bard ballads.
Portal zones were hotbeds for Liberation agents, smugglers, and general morons.
Traveling during mana storms or near unstable 'Beyond Portals' had a 92% chance of… creative death.
---
[Destination: Northern Human Continent – Frostgarde Region]
The second Lucien stepped through the portal, he got punched in the face.
By the weather.
-50° Celsius.
Blizzards roared like starving dragons. Ice formations jutted out of the earth like teeth ready to chomp travelers into decorative icicles. The air was so sharp it could probably cut taxes.
Any normal person?
Instant popsicle.
Lucien?
[Adaptation Trait: Passive Cold Resistance Initiated]
He flexed his gloved fingers experimentally. His breath puffed out in slow, misty clouds—but he didn't feel like he was dying. Always a good sign.
He grinned into the biting wind.
"Guess Mother Nature's going to have to try harder."
---
For three days, Lucien trekked through hell's frozen cousin.
Across sheer ice cliffs.
Over howling glaciers.
Past snowdrifts so deep he swore he could hear muffled, long-forgotten screams under the surface.
He kept moving, driven by memory—by a stupid, half-joking Easter Egg the original novel's author had hidden in these cursed lands.
Until—
He saw it.
The Panchmukhi Mountains.
Five enormous stone faces carved into a black cliffside, each face frozen in a different heroic expression.
Lucien slowed to a stop, staring.
"No. Freaking. Way."
One face had spiky hair. Another had a forehead so wide it deserved its own postal code.
"The Five Hokages... why am I not even surprised anymore?"
The fans had thought it was a meme. A harmless in-joke.
Lucien knew better.
He pulled out a worn map, hand-drawn from the novel's lore forums.
"Fourth face... sharp scowl... left ear."
Yup. Definitely a side quest only a half-insane, detail-obsessed reader would notice.
He started climbing.
The cliffs were ruthless. Icy winds howled like banshees. Even with his enhanced physique, his fingers ached with cold. His cloak snapped behind him like a dying flag.
Halfway up, a particularly strong gust almost yeeted him into orbit.
He clung to the rock, teeth gritted.
"Yeah, sure, author... make a climbing quest in the middle of a death storm... good adventure design, idiot."
But he kept going.
He reached the fourth face—the 'Yellow Flash' styled one. That determined scowl? Still intact after who-knew-how-many centuries.
Lucien grinned like a madman.
Fourth face. Left ear.
He squeezed into a small alcove shaped suspiciously like an ear canal. If he died because of this, he was haunting the author in the afterlife.
Inside, the air shifted.
There—almost invisible—a rune-enchanted illusion spell shimmered against the stone wall.
Lucien touched it lightly.
The magic unraveled with a sigh, revealing a hidden cave mouth.
Inside—
Ancient tech.
Glowing runes.
Stone sigils faded with time but still humming with locked mana.
At the center of it all: a dormant teleportation array.
It looked cobbled together by a drunk sci-fi nerd and a cultist who couldn't agree on aesthetic—but Lucien knew power when he saw it.
He approached cautiously, hand hovering over the control sigil.
Pulse.
Mana flickered from his body into the array.
The symbols around the circle snapped awake, bursting into electric blue life.
The wind outside the cave howled louder—as if furious he'd found something he wasn't supposed to.
The teleportation portal started to roar, swirling like a hungry whirlpool.
Lucien laughed under his breath.
He stepped forward, utterly reckless and utterly confident.
The light swallowed him whole.
And the frozen winds screamed behind him, unheard.